Rain in My Eyes
by Eileen Blazer
Summary: While dealing with his own sorrow, Obi-wan reflects back on what Qui-gon told him


Here's something short and angsty. I was actually crying over   
something, but denying it, when my mom said something about there being   
rain in my eyes. Kinda like the song, you know, "oh there must be   
raindrops, falling from my eyes, oh no it can't be tear drops for a man   
ain't supposed to cry. So it must be raindrop falling from my eyes."   
Anywho, that was my inspiration. BTW, anyone reading The Greatest   
Force, I have written most of it and plan on posting the next chapter   
on Wed. and the final chapter on Fri, so look for it then.  
If SaraC is reading this, I'll send you chapters 7, 8, and 9 on Mon.   
Sorry for not sending seven sooner.   
Everyone, please review, have a very happy Labor day weekend.   
  
  
Rain in My Eyes  
August 2002  
by Eileen Blazer  
  
  
  
I finally found it. It's out in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts   
of the galaxy's outskirts; in fact, its so far to edge of this galaxy   
that it must be moonlighting with another. Sun rays barely hit the   
planet surface, and a thick snowy, icy blanket covered everything.  
  
Everything but the part of the cottage I had sought. Its small, tiny   
really. I couldn't make out much of the exterior design, but it seemed   
to me that half of the cottage had been burned, inside-out, because of   
2the way it sort of caved in like the chest of an emaciated man. This   
was the place where Anakin and Padme had tried to forsake their old   
lives, where they hid, so she could escape the Inquisition and Pledge.   
  
And and all footsteps, either coming to or leaving from the cottage,   
had long since vanished from the white sheet of snow. In every   
direction lay miles upon miles of nothing, and never before had I been   
forced to rely on the Force to guide my way as then, when all hope and   
ability was stricken from me.   
  
Eventually I found the speeder. From the perspective of a weary   
traveler, it looked like a hill. Only through keen eyes did I see the   
tip, pointing out from behind a bucket of rocky, foggy ice. Imagined   
Anakin and Amidala pulling out the fews bags they'd manage to bring   
along, and shoving the packs onto their shoulders. From this point,   
they'd vowed to live with only each other, and give up all other people   
and civilization.   
  
It was also at this site where she'd sent me a message, fantically   
pressing buttons and speaking in terror, her head turning contstantly   
at every sound, as if expecting a monster to appear and swallow her   
whole. Her voice, muffled and scared, and her image, crouched and   
nervous, had shocked me to the core. She wasn't the courageous woman   
I'd bid farewell to, but a shadow of her, thin and afraid of the   
sunset. Only a handfull of words made it all the way to Couruscant.  
  
Obi...lied...secrets..., I made out through all the static.   
Talking...Palp(atine, I decided)...not...Ani...scared...help. And then   
the holo went black. I'd set out immediately.  
  
Touching the small point, I looked forward and started trudging again.  
  
And, lastly, I found her.  
  
She hadn't made it far from the speeder. Somehow, I was on my knees,   
and the cloak wrapped around her. I could try to exlain how that   
happened, and why, but my memory of it is shakey at best. Suffice it to   
say that she ended up in my arms.  
  
I caught her hand in mine and blew warm air onto it, but it was a vain   
effort. Heavy and frost-bitten as they were, my limbs could offer her   
no comfort.  
  
I felt something trickle down my cheek and thought of Qui-gon Jinn.  
  
**********  
  
  
Her name was Tekal Lina, and she was a Learner in the Halls of J'Etia,   
a quiet, pretty woman with a lanky frame and short curly brown hair. It   
seemed she was pertually swabbed in the gowns of the Learners, always   
wearing the same billowing white gowns that covered most of her body.   
It might sound silly, but I loved looking at her feet. They were bare,   
for shoes were not permitted in the Halls, and each delicate toe was   
wrapped in a strand of silver-blue string and secured in place by the   
smallest gem.  
  
We were there on a mission, running an errand for the Council, when we   
met her. She guided us through the sacred building, with a smile and a   
laugh. I was a child then, and Tekal would give me pieces of candy,   
ruffling my very short hair, and I adored her for it.  
  
Master Qui-gon, I noticed, spent much of our tours watching her. His   
eyes were trained on the Learner at all times, and I could dance along   
the balcony with a long stick, destroying percious artifacts and he   
wouldn't so much as mutter my name.  
  
Our stay was extended. The Halls became a familiar place, and another   
of the Learners, a man named Bique designed feet for me too, similar to   
Tekal's but with white thread, sicne I was a male. Qui-gon had more   
important things to see to.  
  
He dined with Tekal whenever he could, and only half of the time did I   
accompany them. We would sit on the grass and listen to the hymms of   
the Callers, the other residents of the Halls. It was there, with the   
melodies surrounding us like a fog, that I noticed the connection   
between them.  
  
My master doted on her, telling jokes, wiping the wine from her lips,   
gazing into her eyes as though they held the secret to the Force. And   
she made him the focus of her attention.  
  
Love was forbidden for both. It was protocol in the Jedi world, and   
written in Tekal's Vows. Punishment would be severe. And yet, despite   
this, they loved. Of course it wasn't so clear to the mind of an eight   
year old boy.   
  
Until the Council called us home.   
  
An unrest was emerging outside of the Halls of J'Etia; angry   
mobs began gathering outside the gates and demanded random riches to   
ease the burden of poverty. Documents and precious items were hidden,   
and both the Learners and the Callers met to prepare for an attack.   
Qui-gon asked the Council to remain; and, when that failed, he begged.   
They needed a guard, a warrior, someone to fight for them. How could pacifists fight off an angry militia?  
  
But the Council sensed an attachment, on our part, to the Halls and   
would not let us stay. With much reluctance, we departed, leaving them   
in their hour of need. Master Yoda assured us another knight was   
assigned and would stand guard.   
  
Tekal saw us off. She and Qui-gon embraced for a long time, and when   
they pulled away she was crying. Then she came up to me and ruffled my   
hair and kissed my cheek.  
  
My first kiss, in a way. My only kiss.  
  
We were on a neighboring planet when we heard about the attack. The mob   
had burst through the gate and started stealing. Many caught in their   
way were mowed down. Qui-gon didn't call the Council this time. We just   
jumped back into our speeder and rushed to Tekal.  
  
The mere sight of Qui-gon's saber was enough to send the hoards of   
people running. Some tried to carry items and were caught, others   
abandoned even family for the doors.  
  
Somewhere in the wreckage, we found Tekal. Horribly, it was by those   
tiny, soft feet that we recognized her body. Her white robes were   
stained scarlet, and her face was broken and crushed by a tall shelf.   
Her hands clutched two things, one a Candle of Peace.   
  
The other was a holo-pic. Of the three of us.  
  
I'd never seen a Jedi cry before. It was a sign of emotion, and   
emotions were not allowed. But I couldn't have reminded Qui-gon of that   
even if I'd wanted to. I could hardly breath without chocking on   
another sob. Other Learners walked around us, caring for the injured or   
dead. But no one stepped up to take Tekal Lina's body from my master's   
arms.   
  
I saw him take the picture and place it in his own robes, then   
carefully close her eyes. I found a white cloth to cover her; Tekal   
never let anything ruin the pure color of her gown.   
  
The funeral was beautiful. The Callers found their voices again and the   
bodies were placed on boats and sent off into the misty river.   
  
My master remained on the grass afterwards, and I didn't leave his   
side. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and became my father. We were a   
family, had been for a while. And with the wife and mother gone, we had   
to rely on each other for solace and peace.  
  
Time didn't stop there, of course. We left the Halls and returned at   
the Counil's wish. My master never spoke of them with any bitterness,   
but he became a little more defiant and less willing to earn a seat on   
the Council with each passing day.   
  
Sometimes we would hear a song that reminded us of our dinners with   
Tekal, or see one specific star that twinkled like her smile. At those   
occassions, something wet would fall down our eyes.  
  
I asked him once if it was wrong of us to cry as we did. He placed his   
hand on my shoulder, and in a soft, firm voice told me this:  
  
"The Code forbids emotions. And tears would be a sign of sorrow, a very   
potent emotion. But Obi-wan, we aren't crying. There's just rain in our   
eyes."  
  
*****  
  
And Padme was lying in my arms, just as Tekal had laid in Qui-gon's.   
Instead of white-stained-scarlet, it was scarlet-burned-white, the snow   
caked all over her clothing.  
  
A small wound touched her temple, a cut so precise it must have been   
done with a saber. A cut, an attack, I had taught Anakin. For whatever   
reason, he had betrayed her, stolen her from civilizaton and taken her   
to a isolated planet and killed her.   
  
I like to think he took her there with every intention of keeping her   
safe. But even the distance between my former padawan and Palpatine   
hadn't been enough to keep them safe.   
  
They were both dead. He, slain at the hands of a new Sith. She, by   
someone who loved her.  
  
But not her only love. In her hands, a piece of paper was crumbled, and   
the ink had run, rendering it nearly illegible. Yet I could read it   
clearly.  
  
'If you find this, you're probably next to my dead body,  
unless Anakin has pried it out of my fingers.  
He's gone, and a cold man is in his place. Be careful.  
You're a target now too.  
Obi-wan, I have to tell you this, though it may seem ill-timed.  
When Anakin faded, I thought I'd lost the only man I loved.  
But it was your comforting voice that gave me peace when   
everything else was in turmoil. I realized that I needed you,  
your presence, your strength. I asked Anakin to take me  
back. I needed to see you and understand what I felt.  
But it pushed him off the thin wire he'd been walking.  
He stormed away, and I know he is going to the speeder.  
He going to talk to Palpatine. He's giving in.  
I have only minutes now before he returns and I hope I   
can get you and the Council a message. You have to know  
about the danger! And you have to know that in the coldest   
place in the galaxy, Obi-wan, the memory of you kept me warm.  
  
Deepest Loves,  
Padme   
  
My eyes were gysers, and I pulled her close to my heart. I *had* loved   
her, though I worked hard to hide it.   
  
I loved her as Qui-gon must haved loved Tekal. Truly, Madly,   
beautifully.  
  
My family is gone now. All of them have passed into the Force. But I   
have keepsakes. From Tekal, white strings with tiny gems and a kiss on   
the cheek. From Qui-gon a saber and nearly two decades of memories.   
From Amidala, a crumpled letter and a set of twins to watch over.  
  
Sometimes I look out at the sky and something wet falls down my face.  
  
But I don't worry about disobeying the Jedi Code. Because its not tears   
and I'm not crying.  
  
There's just rain in my eyes.  
  
  
  
FIN  
  
  
Well, there we have it. A sad, angsty little fic about Obi-wan, and   
Qui-gon, and such. *Sigh*. Review, pleaze?  
Also, looking for beta reader/editor/idea-bouncer-offer person. I   
always end up like missing words and spelling, and forgeting what the   
whole plot is supposed to be about. Also, I have a tendency to have   
weird thoughts and may not always be able to tell what sounds funny, or   
sad, or interesting to other people...  
Must be willing to read fics that may not have a Star Wars genre...well   
all right, you don't have too, but it would be nice if you could. A   
Sailor Moon story or Lord of the Rings fic wouldn't be so bad to   
critique/fix grammar, would it?  
Must except my eternal gratitude and smiley faces (^_^) as payment.  
Anyone interested? I'm at Eileenblzr@yahoo.com  
I need your heeeeeeeeeelp! (spoken in manner of Bugs Bunny in SpaceJam) 


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